The Fighter
by Suitable Misnomer
Summary: Having returned to Republic City after a six year absence, Sun, daughter of Chief Lin Beifong, must learn that family remains after all other bridges have been burned.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

_Author's note: this is a test-run for a story-bunny I came up with after seeing the first episode, "Welcome to Republic City." I found Lin Beifong to be a fascinating character. But we don't know much about her. I'd like to learn more, but then the bunnies started whining. Then their Monty Python teeth came out. I couldn't refuse. The idea for this story, this series (I should say...), is focused around Sun Beifong, the character I've created as Lin's daughter and, thus, Toph's granddaughter. The series would be about her 'new' life in Republic City... but, like I said, this is a test-run. Let me know how you like it and if I should continue. The bunnies are hungry._

* * *

Stories may start with 'once upon a time,' but often there is no happily ever after. Life is more complicated than a series of paragraphs constructed to fit perfectly between a non-descriptive beginning and a glib conclusion.

Sun met him just before she turned eighteen. Smart and strong, he won her affections quickly. Beautiful, bright, and exuberant, she was an easy girl for which to fall head over heels. Her mother forbade the match: he was a waterbender for the Triple Threats - he was dangerous, too old for her, and he brought a whole can of troublesome worms along with him. Baggage - her daughter was too young and too beloved to be weighed down. Lin demanded Sun listen; she begged her daughter to open her eyes and see him for what he was.

A bright future eclipsed - she refused to listen to her mother. Instead, the lovers eloped. At first, their life together was nothing but blissful - but happiness is ephemeral - short and sweet like the bloom of a late-summer flower. Soon a darker thing took hold - something cloaked in illusion but falling to pieces behind a heavy curtain. The barrier shattered - memories grew stale and turned to regrets.

Late nights became common occurrences. Sun lost sleep over him, waiting for him to come through the door. Inevitably, he would show up inebriated, stumbling across the threshold in a rage. When he drank he knew not his own strength - he knew not his own power over her. His true nature revealed itself - aggressive and devoid of mercy. His frustrations and self-doubts manifested themselves upon his wife's pale skin. Bruises of varying sizes and shapes swelled and multiplied along her tender limbs. But she could not bring herself to fight back. Still a child at heart, Sun still held out for her fairy-tale ending. She thought she could change him. Truly, she loved him - truly, she wanted them to lead the life she had envisioned for them: away from the city in a quiet, secluded, verdant and cool place. Even more, Sun wished to achieve this life for the child, unknown to her husband, growing inside her. The dream seemed to die again and again each night.

Change. What a stupid dream. Silly girl - people don't change. So Sun let herself be his toy - to caress, to hold, to hurt, to toss aside when he was finished. One final argument brought Sun to the breaking point. Three months along, she planned to tell him. He would soon notice - Sun was beginning to show. Yet the whip made of water came from out of nowhere. Lodged against her face, the stinging, bleeding pain would subside eventually, but the scar would remain forever to torture her. He turned from her - his wife on the floor. But she was done with him - done with dreaming. Blood dripping and tears falling - Sun struck back. Violently. Utilizing the earth at her feet, Sun let loose her anger and long-hidden hatred. He left, but she could not stay. She owned nothing - not even the clothes on her back.

Humiliation prevented her from returning to her childhood home. Lin Beifong had never been a tender woman. As a mother, she was hardly more comforting than a drill sergeant. Besides, thought Sun, she had been ungrateful to her mother - a life of privilege wasted and given up without appreciation. Now, Sun had nothing. Nothing except for her unborn child. She knew he would be vindictive. In a rush, she fled. That night - that moment - rushing forward - clothes thrown into a rucksack - heart racing - a stale loaf of bread shoved in after the garments - gasping for breath - the large overcoat hugging a frail figure, abused and terrified. And then, as if she never existed, Sun vanished.

Then, as suddenly as she had gone, she reappeared - a child clinging to her hip. Six years later, mother and daughter came 'home' to Republic City. Time had not stopped. Life had gone on. But this time, Sun would be recalcitrant. She was stronger and more stubborn than before - a born fighter coming into full realization of herself. She would fight for herself - but more for her daughter, the tiny life she had brought into the harsh world. Lira's life rested in Sun's capable, calloused hands. Now a mother herself, Sun's life would be devoted to her daughter. Despair had no place in her daily thoughts. Regrets took up too much time, too much energy. People do not change - they grow. They develop. They become fighters. Delusions of happily ever after blasted apart - the mirror would remain forever shattered. A reminder of a girl who became a woman too quickly. And of a woman who became a force of nature.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I've decided to continue this story, obviously. I've gotten a lot of great feedback and constructive criticism. Thanks to everyone. I'm very excited to be continuing to write and share Sun's story.

A note for the timeline: Sun and Lira return to Republic City following the Book One finale of "The Legend of Korra," so things are still tense, but calming down.

Thanks again. Reviews are very much welcomed.

- M

* * *

"_It's time to you to look inward and begin asking yourself the big questions: who are you, and what do _**you** _want?" (Uncle Iroh, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Book 2: Earth, Episode 16: "Lake Laogai")_

* * *

Fear - relentless, uncompromising, indiscriminate. Fear is an illusion, yet manifests itself so tangibly in the paralysis it instills. Fear is so human because we create and perpetuate the illusion ourselves. Fear does not seek us out malevolently; we fabricate fear as a vehicle by which we displace our own self-doubts.

Sun's list of regrets grew daily. Immaturity, which had blinded her. Arrogance, which had encouraged Sun's poor decisions. Pride: the bitter aftertaste of a privileged but lonely home life, which allowed a daughter so blatantly to cut down her mother. Idealism: believing in absurd notions; ignoring reality. In six years little had changed in respect to the self-doubts Sun still felt burning so hotly. Nothing except for her painful realization of her faults.

Acceptance does not automatically arrive upon realization; there is little connection between seeing and believing. Without acceptance, however, our minds endlessly flail about in a tempest. Letting go of the past is necessary, however, to move forward. Otherwise we remain stagnate - stuck as we are. The past can never be forgotten, though. Mistakes are made; we learn. Some mistakes, however, are greater than petty misdemeanors. These few yet absolute felonies against the human heart and soul place us under intense scrutiny. Suddenly, the inquisitorial lamplight is upon us, blaring into our watery eyes as if to ask two illuminating yet seemingly impossible questions, 'who are you,' and 'what do _you_ want'?'

Convincing herself to return to Republic City had not been easy. In fact, Sun still needing convincing, especially as she eyed the solemn front door of her childhood home. The townhouse was nestled quietly in the middle of an odd-numbered row of other residences bearing similar appearances. The general clamor of the city was inescapable, but to alleviate the headaches with which the job of Metal-bender Police Chief often came, the Beifong residence rested nearer to the edge of the city in the fifth district, nicknamed Koi Quarter. Actually, Lin had not even had a say in where she lived. She continued to inhabit the same home Sun's grandmother had created nearly seventy-four years before.

Something so familiar and intimate morphed into something frightening, and for a moment Sun considered turning around and marching back across the Western Earth Kingdom. Soft pressure applied to her leg and the ensuing quick tug on her clothes grounded Sun instantly.

"Mommy?" The soft coo of the tiny daughter was welcome, soothing music to her mother's ears, which still roared loudly with the sound of nervously pumping blood. Sun dipped her chin to allow her own jade colored eyes to meet the iridescent cerulean tone of her daughter's - the only striking physical contrast between mother and daughter.

"Mommy, why are we here?"

Incapable of a bright smile, the corners of Sun's mouth drew softly upward as she kneeled down upon the earthen road to match her daughter's height. She was a small girl, but bright and inquisitive. Soft-spoken, she rarely complained and possessed an affectionate, forgiving nature alien to Sun. Sun lovingly brushed back the dark black waves framing her daughter's face, admiring the innocent and radiant glow of the child's face - children were so fortunate.

"Lira, do you remember where I told you I grew up?"

Lira nodded vigorously. "You grew up here, in Republic City."

"That's right. I was a little girl here much like you."

"Why did you leave then?" Lira's question nearly knocked the wind out of Sun, as if she were taking a rock to the gut. Sun had told no one the truth of her exodus from Republic City six years ago, especially not her daughter. Lira, after all, was part of the reason.

Inhaling to calm her racing heart, Sun took her daughter's tiny hands in her own. The smooth frailty of young skin was so different from the rough strength of hands aged beyond their time.

Answering her daughter with the truth would only confuse her, if not devastate her. She was at too precious an age to be spoiled by the world. Sun assumed her usual behavior and answered her daughter with a proud but forced smirk. "Because Republic City would go nuts if it had to deal with another Beifong, of course."

Lira giggled - she thought her mother said the strangest things sometimes. Satisfied, Sun pushed herself up again and began stepping towards the front door, her daughter's hand curled in her own. "Who lives here, Mommy?"

Sun had not warned Lira. Considering how Lira had never asked about her grandparents, Sun had never mentioned their existence. If Sun mentioned her mother, Lira immediately would ask why she had never met her, and Sun would be back in the same rut. Everything hinged upon the woman who would answer the door - if she were home. Sun nearly prayed her mother was not home, though she knew that after a long, difficult week at work Lin Beifong wanted nothing more than to clear her head with a hot cup of jasmine tea brewed in a special earthen pot given to Sun's grandmother by an old friend who had once owned a tea shop in Ba Sing Se. Sun decided if Lin were not home then she and Lira would leave for good. And if Lin slammed the door in Sun's face, then Lira lost nothing because she knew so little.

"You'll just have to find out," Sun finally conceded, painfully and almost under her breath.

Finally the wood of the door was within knocking distance. Sun froze. Was the earth below her feet quivering or was Sun herself shaking?

_Emotional muck. The creek cannot flow..._

Not recognizing she was holding her breath, her knuckles lightly rapped on the wood three times. The sound of feet stepping across the floor came from inside. Seconds later, the door opened, and Sun felt as if she were going to black out. Slightly above Sun, the slim, tall figure of Lin Beifong stood in the doorway. The two stared, Sun's mother's earth hued eyes widening in utter shock at her recognition of the daughter before her.

"Sun?" she managed to utter, her words compressed and strained as if she thought Sun had come back from the dead. In a way, she had.

Heart pounding, lungs about to collapse, Sun finally was able to call upon her voice. "Hi, Mom."

* * *

_Recognition and repentance are the first steps necessary to reveal the road to absolution. Forgiveness is healing. Asking for forgiveness of others is difficult. But more importantly, how do you begin to forgive yourself?_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: this chapter took me longer than I expected, but I like the way it turned out. More flashbacks will be included as the story goes on. The next chapter, I will reveal, is written in Lin's perspective. I already have most of the next chapter written, so I will estimate it's being published by at least Friday. I'm spending the next week with my family and they get cranky when I ignore them to attend to writerly pursuits. _

_Thanks again for reading! If you like what you're reading, please share with others. Also, reviews and constructive criticism are always welcomed._

* * *

During labor Sun had cried out for her mother. She had not been brave; she had been weak. Pitiful, even. Emotionally destroyed and physically weakened after months of pushing westward through the Earth Kingdom with every ounce of strength she had left, Sun's body was failing her. Without food her slender body had grown thin as her stomach swelled.

She stumbled upon a convent - not so convenient as ironic. And stumbling was hardly an apt description for how a young initiate had discovered Sun folded in half against the outside gate, head between her knees and teeth gnashing together as time grew shorter between each contraction. Beads of sweat poured down Sun's face as she attempted to modulate breathing. Your baby is turned sideways, they told her. Just get the damn thing out of me.

Two of the nuns were waterbenders with experience in healing. The baby turned, they deemed the young mother ready. But Sun herself was not ready. She would never be ready to be a mother to newborn Lira: tinier than anything imaginable, her skin puckered in alternating shades of pinks and purples. She did not ask to hold her child. Instead, Sun wept bitterly. For herself, for her child, and for fear of the future.

Eight months and a week Lira had nestled quietly and comfortably within her mother's womb - too short a time for a girl who had so quickly entered womanhood to become a capable mother. Impossible, though biologically feasible. Why was such a paradox even allowed? Some epic human jest - black humor. Dotingly caring for an infant, watchfully raising a toddler, guiding another human life through life itself - Sun remained still terrified six years later. Sun couldn't even straighten out her own existence.

Finally Sun snapped out of her self-pity. What would her grandmother think of her? Grow some backbone, girl - a new path unfolds before your very eyes. Then Lira was placed in Sun's arms, and she relaxed.

"What are you going to name her, dear?"

Sun's eyes did not leave the innocent face of her daughter - the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her fears faded as the infant's pupils appeared to focus on her mother. Yes it's me, little one - you are all mine, and I am all yours. A name for this girl - it must be something soft, something gentle, something musical. A name to evoke the tranquil rush of a clear blue stream through reeds topped in cattails. Blue and calming as the glistening glow of Sun's baby's eyes. "Lira."

Sun would figure the rest out as she went along.

* * *

Her first bout of morning sickness, and Sun still had no clue. Bleary-eyed, she woke with nausea of such intensity she nearly pushed the man sprawled out on the mattress next to her off the edge of the bed in her race to the bathroom. And then she lost the entirety of the contents of her stomach - hands gripping the sides of the toilet - knees unsteadily balancing their owner. Sun's evidently doting husband merely rolled over to reach for a pillow to cover his head to drown out sound while growling at Sun to "keep the racket down." Later she woke with her face pressed against the cool, dark tiles - drool pooling from the corner of her open mouth.

A fluke - that was all. A bug. It would pass. Soon.

Later she was alone, washing dishes after gulping down another bowl of rice and the leftovers from her husband's lunch. He would want them later. He would have to deal. But he wouldn't. So Sun savored her time alone. The radio was switched off - she preferred quiet. Music would only make her head spin again. But a soft percussion, close and clear, arrested Sun. _Was _the radio off?

Not a noise - no. A vibration. She whirled around, her hands dripping with water and suds. The kitchen was empty. So she took inventory: Sun closed her eyes and inhaled deeply and shifted her weight to the balls of her feet - bare against the wooden floor of the flat. Sun rarely wore shoes indoors - the better to know everything happening at every moment. Nothing, though - only the usual hum of city activity outside and a floor below. Otherwise, Sun was alone.

It clicked. From her - the percussive vibrations came from Sun's own body. She folded a hand over her breast to hear the familiar thudding of her own heart, then ran both hands down until another softer and smaller thudding stopped her at her abdomen. Breath escaped Sun. There it was: a tiny, beating heart pressed against the tissues of her insides, protected by the sinews of Sun's muscles, and undulating to meet the tight luminously pale skin of her then young hands. Life recognizing life.

* * *

"Lira." Sun noticed how Lin seemed to savor her granddaughter's name - how the tongue ascended into a salute, curling and rolling to form the receding "r," and ending with a soft sigh. "You have a very nice name." A compliment meant for Lira or for Sun? Lira blushed and shyly clasped her hands behind her back.

Sun had never seen her mother act in this way. Lin became kindly, but did not fawn over Lira. Instead, she treated her granddaughter with enormous respect - choosing to address Lira directly rather than relegating her to an inferior. "How old are you?"

Lira hesitated and glanced over her shoulder at Sun to exchange a silent dialogue. Behind Lira, Sun sat in the chair at the head of the table to which Lin had invited them with a strict hand gesture. Grand matriarch and daughter both consciously and unconsciously distanced themselves from each other - by three feet at least - placing Lira, perhaps unfairly, between them. An implied nod to Lira: go on.

Imbued with confidence, Lira held out two little hands - five fingers raised on the right, one on the left.

"Six?" Lin verified.

"Well," reconsidered Lira with her typical but endearing precociousness, "almost. I'll be six in springtime!" Behind locked lips and teeth closed like guarded gates, Sun smiled. Children found such immense joy in such trivial and then such odd things. Age was one of those odd things - Lira found happiness in growing up, in gaining a year - bringing her closer to being "old enough." This sort of exuberant optimism was both refreshing and devastating. A mother so in love with her daughter never wanted her to age - to edge nearer to snowballing into disillusion about a world so angry, so roaring, and so foul. Total disenchantment. Jaded with reality. Sun wished to protect Lira from ever experiencing dismay at the dismalness life could be.

"Six is a good age," Lin admitted softly. Lira smiled. Six _was _a good age - a perfect time to keep alive the innocence and naïveté of a child.

The conversation lapsed. Sun looked down at the table, feeling the weight of her mother's observant gaze from the corners of her eyes. Always feeling out the situation. Rarely wrong.

Lin stood. "Why don't I show you to where you'll be sleeping tonight." She addressed Lira, who grew excited even through her noticeable exhaustion at being given the chance to see the house in which her mother had grown up - in which Lira's newly-found grandmother lived. The tiny girl hopped after Lin, exiting the kitchen and disappearing down the darkened corridor - the faintest trails of light from the ivory tea lamps illuminating her glistening black locks.

For several moments Sun was alone once more in a kitchen. The very kitchen she had spent most of her childhood. Where Sun had watched eagerly as Lin prepared a simple meal for them to share. Where Toph more often than not made Sun do the dishes - both washing and drying - because, after all, she was blind.

So little had changed: same table, same curtains. Different tea lamps of course - those were replaced once a month because they burned out rapidly. And still above the sink and counter hung the beautifully embroidered Beifong seal - the golden outline of a flying boar against a forest green background. Sun frowned at the boar. What are you looking at? She always considered it judgmental. Then again, Sun was the black sheep.

"Six years old." Lin walked slowly back into the kitchen to reclaim her seat. In the exact same seats in the exact same room as Sun so often had been chastised as an adolescent, Sun felt as if she were a teenager again. Reckless, foolish, irresponsible, immature - these were only some of the many adjectives Lin had used in desperate attempts to disarm her reluctant daughter and set her on the right track.

"Almost." Sun replied, her low voice level. This time she refused to look down. Submission was not an option. But she had quickly forgotten her original purpose for returning. Challenging her mother when Lin had welcomed them into the Beifong home without a word otherwise would prove fruitless and stupid.

"She looks like you."

"She looks like _you._" The Beifong women did look much alike. Pale skin illuminated their sharp features - most notably how their eyes took the shape of a cat's - like green almonds. Strong noses - stubborn jaws - typically stony expressions. Hair the color of calligraphy ink, flowing in straight tresses and growing with the alacrity of a weed. Lin long ago had chopped her hair off - too difficult to manage. Then it began to gray in her late thirties. Youth so quickly left the young as they journeyed through life.

Sun knew there was existed a 'but' or a 'however' with Lin - there always was an exception. "She's got her father's eyes." And there it was.

"Yup." Nonchalance intended - indifference feigned. Sun was no actress. Hiding did not come naturally to the Beifong women. Emotion manifested itself in action - action reared and struck with alarming swiftness. Sun knew those eyes - their dimensions, the color, and how they brimmed with a broader spectrum of feeling than one would believe possible. Startlingly cerulean; clear but never vacant. Lira was all smiles, though. Her father - not so much. But Lira could not be held culpable for being the product of two idiots who had been so in love but so wrong for each other.

Following Sun's deflection, matriarch and daughter sat in silence. Stillness, but without any sense of peace. Without their buffer they lacked direction - nothing voiced but everything left unsaid. Then Lin filled the void with an even more unwelcome comment: "that."

Demonstrative: searing and hot; pointed and knowing.

"This?" Also demonstrative, but acerbic - cold. Also pointed, literally - Sun's fingers grazed the mark on her face. A tattoo of her naïve foolishness. A reminder and a catalyst. The scar - uneven but curling as if it were some sadistic work of art - running from her right temple to the her delicate collarbone - jeeringly tracing its way down her face so as to brush under the eye and narrowly avoid both nose and lip. It movement with the forcefulness of a mountaintop spring becoming a river - carving and gorging its way through the earth, propelled by gravity - leaving darkly discolored canyons embedded in pale skin.

Given a choice Sun would have preferred dwelling on the subject later rather than sooner. Or never. Never was ideal. Sun remembered having friends in school whose mothers doted on them in the oddest ways - criticizing their appearances as if their daughters were dolls. Never Lin. Lin went for the jugular: never how one looked, but how one acted. Decisions. Choices. The like.

Sun felt her mother's eyes boring into her from across the table. So long to stillness. "He did that to you." Not a question - a firm statement. Not now, the younger mother thought as every muscle and nerve screeched for escape. Run. Run again. Run away, little girl.

Not keen on hiding, Sun instead opted for dodging - she unceremoniously stretched her arms above her head and forced a heavy yawn. "Riveting conversation, Mom, but I'm beat. Mind if I hit the sack?"

Hurt - the only thing Sun seemed capable of doing accurately and assuredly in her mother's house.

Sun thought she detected a slight sigh in her mother's concession. "Lira's in your room." The room in which Sun had not set foot since the afternoon she left her mother's house for what Sun had believed to be the last time. No looking back - no mourning for what she never thought she would miss.

"I'll sleep with her." Young mother and even younger daughter had been sleeping beside one another since Lira's birth. Doing so solidified their bond - Lira safe in Sun's arms, and Sun finding temporary reprieve from all she had left behind in Republic City. To hear - to feel - the gentle and constant beating of her daughter's beautiful, strong heart was the only reassuring lullaby Sun ever needed.

Leaving her mother without a glance over her shoulder, Sun walked down the hallway and called out "G'night," before sliding the door to her childhood room behind her. Once in the dark safety of her room, Sun fell into bed beside her daughter and almost immediately slipped into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: I'm so glad to finally be writing from Lin's perspective. This story is about the Beifong women - their relationships, their growth and development, and mostly importantly their love for each other - so I want to make sure to every dimension of their story. _

_Again thank you to all my readers - you are all so wonderful - and I always welcome comments, critiques, and constructive criticism. I'm already working on the next chapter, which I will reveal is in Sun's perspective and involves a visit from Tenzin. The chapter after that is going to be fun to write, and hopefully enjoyable to read, but I won't spoil anything there._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Lin could not sleep that night. Rain pelted against the windowpanes like viciously hurled rocks. Before each furious clash of thunder, a burst of lightning streaked the sky. Despite the warning, Lin never was prepared. The seasoned Chief of Police still jumped out of her skin. As a child she had loathed storms - they were uncontrollable. Adult Lin acknowledged there was nothing to fear while safely wrapped within the layers of blankets piled on top of her mattress. In her maturity, she had come to appreciate the power of thunderstorms - they were both terrifying and beautiful. Wild and recalcitrant. Stubborn and loud.

Yet she felt uncomfortable that night. Cold even in the warmest of conditions, Lin shivered but knew her insomnia was due to another reason. Something nagged at her - she could not assuage her worried mind even as she lay on her side with her right arm curled under her pillow.

"Mom!"

At the feeble, frightened call from beyond the room, Lin rocketed from her bed wrench the door open in time to receive the small child with a head of tumbling black locks who launched herself at her mother. Lin felt the fear vibrating from her daughter - the tiny child quaked against her mother's breast. Lin pulled Sun closer.

"Shhh." Her voice soft, gentle, coaxing, and yet firm, Lin stroked the crown of her daughter's head - fingers brushing through tangled ends of her long hair. "It's just a storm, Sun. It can't hurt you."

"It's so loud," Sun whimpered with a cracking voice muffled by proximity to her mother's clothes. Only a mother could crave the feeling of her daughter's damp tearstains against her clavicle.

"Thunder just likes to show it's boss."

Sun peeled her face from her mother's chest to meet her eyes, soft brows knit as she tried to understand - as she tried to rationalize that which she feared. "It's just noise?" she sniffed.

Lin nodded, pressing her chin against Sun's forehead and closing her eyes. "Yes." _My darling._ "Come." Mother pulled daughter onto the bed and allowed her to nestle herself against the body that had carried and borne her six years before. Under the soft blankets they were together. Pressed against each other, each finding peace from the warm emanating from the other's body, they were safe. Mother protected daughter, and daughter clung tightly. Mother and daughter serving as constants, shields, anchors, rocks - representing more than the world to each other.

* * *

The plate shattered against the wall, sending irreparable shards of all different shapes and sizes flying to the floor. "What were you thinking?" Lin exploded in a torrent of rage, bellowing at her daughter in the kitchen. "I was worried sick!" Stupid disheveled girl - bursting through the door in the earliest hours of the morning - reeking of sake and cigarette fumes. High on nightlife.

"Hands up - it's the Fun Police!" Sun snorted - her voice betraying a small slur, which Sun hid behind a rebellious smirk. She struggled to stand upright even as she completed her insolent mockery by raising her pale arms over her head of thick, long, black hair. She only fed the furnace of her mother's fury. But Sun knew how to push Lin's buttons, and she loved every minute of it. A bright and shining star, now a tangled and ragged beauty grown ugly by way of the disappointment she embodied. Alluring green eyes hidden behind gobs of smeared black kohl meant to say 'not a child,' but conveying 'hardly a woman'. "Piss off, Chief. Nothing happened."

If only the plate had hit Sun. If only it had wiped away that horrid look on her daughter's face. If only it had knocked some sense into the girl. It was strange how a child could grow to hate her mother.

In turn Lin hated what Sun had become. She even hated that low cut tacky blue dress she was sure cost more than a new stove for the kitchen. He must have bought it for her. And then he must have torn it off her - one of the straps was snapped right in half.

Sun's svelte figure pivoted to dance down the corridor to her room, but Lin was too quick for her. She bounded across the room with a giant stride in time to grasp her daughter's bare shoulder and violently yank her backwards. Upon impact, Sun reacted, though sluggishly because she was still swimming in the remnants of liquid revelry. Earth shot up from underneath the floorboards at the lifting of her big toe. Lin, present and coherent, jumped back, releasing her daughter, who fell into the wall, cursing.

Shocked and hurt, Lin could not compose herself. Sun never had used her earthbending to maliciously attack her mother. From her indecent position against the wall, Sun glared up at her mother - eyes shimmering with a brutal coating of venom. The earthen foundation beneath the Beifong home had snapped and splintered the floorboards separating mother and daughter. Both then realized there would be no clean break. Forgiveness was out of the question.

* * *

A light sleeper by nature, Lin, who had not had a restful night since Sun was thirteen, often rose long before dawn. Her empty house provided both haven and prison; she was trapped in the echoes of the very place she chose to hide after the day ended. She tried to work as late as possible. Longer hours at work meant fewer hours spent alone with her thoughts - with herself.

Her morning consisted of a routine - a ritual, even: a cup of steaming jasmine tea to savor before eating just enough to satiate her. After her breakfast, Lin would don her metal armor before locking the door behind her and silently making her way downtown to Headquarters. And every morning the enormous stone statue of Lin's mother served only as a reminder of everything Lin missed, and of the failure she carried with her.

She left a note for Sun: 'going to work. Won't be back until late. Have food for meals. Maybe take Lira shopping - some money in the second drawer on the left below sink.'

But Lin did not go to work right away. Kept warm in in the morning chill by her coat, the Chief of Police walked, but not along the familiar route to Headquarters. As one metal-clad foot fell in front of another against the thawing ground, Lin found herself in a situation that had long ago proved dangerous for her: Lin was lost in thought.

Lin only had opened the door to find her daughter and _granddaughter_ at her threshold the previous evening - a mere matter of hours before - but she felt as if it had occurred years ago. The numbness she had felt so suddenly come over her then returned as Lin trod along the familiar but then so distant streets.

The scar on her beautiful daughter's fair face. She wanted to kill the bastard - she wanted to make him choke on his own silver tongue. How dare he touch her daughter. How dare he change her. At twenty-four, Sun already bore the signs of stressful maturity. Still lovely, but weathered. Worn. Lines had begun to crease her face. Bags long before had taken up residence under her tired eyes.

And Lira. Lira. Lin's _granddaughter_. She was so pretty - the spitting image of both Sun and Lin with her fair skin and thick head of long inky black hair. But she had her father's eyes. And she was six. Six years old. Lira was the timer on Sun's absence: six long years. Eighteen years young then.

Lin's wandering took her along well-worn path she had traveled in her youth: to the harbor. To a ferry. To Air Temple Island.

To Tenzin.

Lin needed a rational mind, even if Tenzin too often lost battles to Lin's impatience with his spiritual "fluff" (as Lin, once endearingly, jested).

Several yuans out of pocket later, Lin sat at the helm of a small fisherman's boat motoring across the choppy waters of Yue Bay. She breathed deeply to smell the sea's salt mingling with the foggy air around her. Overhead gulls cried pitifully for a bite to eat - they mourned their hunger and sang their dirge in raspy voices.

All still slept. Fortunately only Tenzin dutifully, but groggily, answered the door. Lin could not humor Bumi or explain herself to Pema in her state. "Lin," he greeted her, surprised and politely masking his annoyance with her for waking him. His face fell, though - the airbender's gray eyes shone with concern under thick, slanted brows. He knew her too well - even still. "Lin, what is it?"

"Can I come in?" A foreign tone in Lin's voice alarmed Tenzin. He immediately ushered her into the house and to the kitchen. Tenzin offered Lin something to drink - then something to eat - but each time received a level 'no'. Even when gently told to sit, Lin stood rigidly - defensively - against the counter at her back. Lin could not uphold her typical composure around Tenzin. Not this time. Finally, her shoulders fell forward in a slump of defeat. "Sun's back."

All Lin had not been able to convey the previous evening at the doorway was displayed plainly upon Tenzin's face: utter astonishment - incredulity.

"Last night," Lin continued, her voice dipping in response to the exhaustion nagging at her body.

Lin's old friend was at a loss for words. He knew the complete history between mother and daughter only too well. Tenzin understood, perhaps better than anyone else, how Sun had been Lin's life - her life's love and labor. Tenzin had played comforting witness Lin in her breaking down: still strong, still smart, still independent, still abrasive - but utterly broken. Shattered. Beaten. Lin had retreated further into her armor - she became wholly untouchable. Entirely inconsolable.

Still silence.

"I'm a grandmother," Lin then admitted, as if disbelieving the fact herself.

"You're - ... She - ... what?" Tenzin was stuttering - fluctuating between many different questions and thoughts at once. It was habit Lin both annoyed and found endearing. Now she felt indifferent.

Lin shook her head as she pressed on, her narrow green eyes glued to the floor. "She's got a kid." Lin paused, biting the inside of her lip before going on. "A six-year-old kid."

When Lin was able to look up, she was sure Tenzin was performing the silent calculations in his head - just as Lin had done. Then it was Tenzin's turn to slowly move his head left and right, as if mourning lost youth. His eyes glistened, Lin noticed. He was heartbroken as well. Tenzin had loved that little girl. He had been a father to her when there had not been one in the picture. In a way, Sun had been the child Lin and Tenzin would never actually share. She was their 'what could have been.'

"How are you holding up?"

Tenzin's inquiry was genuine, but Lin still snorted and crossed her arms in front of her. "How do you think?"

Realizing she had been harsh, Lin retracted. "I'm sorry," she repented quietly.

"Don't be."

Moments of silence elapsed before Lin's features softened in remembrance of her own mother pressing a single palm against Lin's swelling stomach. "I remember Mother telling me Sun would be a handful."

Toph had beamed with pride. '_It's a girl - and she's definitely an earthbender. It's like she trying to kick her way out. Just can't wait to see the world, can she?' _Lin had placed her own hands on her middle, moving them to focus her attention on the life growing inside her. '_She's been keeping me up with her antics.' _Toph had chuckled. _'Get used to it. If she's like this three months before she's due, imagine what she'll be like in a couple of years.'_

The mere thought of a child had been terrifying enough for the normally fearless Lin Beifong. A child who would constantly keep her on her toes? A young woman who would grow to hate her own mother so much she would abandon her for a gangster? Nothing in Lin's life had ever been romantic - she had learned long ago not to dream too far and too high. If she fell, it would be a long way down.

Lin's vision blurred, but she kept the corners of her mouth pulled back in a tight smile as she tried to keep hot, salty tears from spilling down her cheeks.

"Lin," Tenzin comforted her, drawing close and placing his hands on her shoulders - firm, safe. Lin hardly ever cried, and if she did she kept it to herself. She shed her tears alone. Tenzin was the exception, though. At first he had not known how to comfort Lin - back when they were two young people in love. Gradually, he had learned, and, gradually, Lin had come to accept his being there for her even when she begged to be left alone.

Their lives had opted for diverging paths - they had changed - but since becoming close again Tenzin could still show his support for his old friend - his dear friend. He could not, however, fix anything. No one could. No one could piece back together the splintered heart of a beaten mother.

* * *

Eventually Lin went to work. To be busy, she figured, is to self-medicate. Lin threw herself into any task: scratching signatures on the lines of paperwork thrust her way; training the newest metalbending recruits who Lin believed looked as scrawny and lacking in command as malnourished monkey-lizards, and drilling her seasoned officers. So much needed to be done. Avatar Korra only had restored the bending of Lin and her metalbenders - they needed practice to shake off the rust of inactivity and the emotional trauma of losing enormous parts of their identities. Bitter work was the only way to ensure they would regain their status as the elite protectors of Republic City, which desperately needed its police force.

The Equalist movement would not subside overnight. Amon had disappeared, but cutting off the head of an idea only encouraged the sprouting of three more in its place. A threatening shadow hung over the city, and many believed it was only a matter of time before Amon returned or another leader took up the mantle of the underdog messiah of the disenfranchised. An idea could not be killed - only temporarily put to sleep.

Like a watchful guardian, Lin kept tabs on every street and down every dark alley of Republic City. Metalbending police teams carefully surveyed each district day and night, as residual anti-bender sentiments often manifested in riots, muggings, and street fights. The city still was at war with itself - internecine violence threatened to tear everything peaceful about Republic City apart.

Perfect timing for the return of the prodigal daughter.

Lin's demeanor took a sharp turn from her usual abrasive sourness to aggressive churlishness. Others would pay for the things Lin could not control. Professionalism be damned - Lin couldn't keep the fire of her personal life from igniting when exposed to the oil of her work life.

The trainees waded out of earshot before wondering what they had done to earn "the Harpy's" wrath. Lin lacerated her officers for each mistake, and turned on anyone who gave even a grunt of complaint.

Claws out, fangs bared - the only way for Lin to get through the day.

She dreaded returning home. She and Sun eventually would have to sit down and have a conversation using fully constructed sentences. That was unavoidable, especially if Sun and Lira would continue living with Lin. Briefly Lin wondered if Sun had read a newspaper or listened to a radio - or even gossip - over the past months. Had she any inkling to what she and her daughter had returned home?

Ground rules needed establishing. Sun would need to find a job - feeding three people could not be done on one woman's salary. Lira would attend school.

Then there was the husband. Lin's countenance contorted at the mere thought of the arrogant criminal - the bastard responsible for it all. She blamed him.

Lin was aware he had lost his bending early on, along with other well-known members of the inner circle of the Triple Threat Triads. Yet Lin still felt the distinct and distasteful bile of fear rising in the back of her throat. If he did not know Sun was back, he would soon. Without his bending he was still a threat - the Triads were some of the most powerful individuals in the city.

Perhaps he would even get it back. Avatar Korra still was conferring with the city's Council to decide whether or not the bending of these crime lords would be restored. Cynical as always, Lin fought with their advocates. Fairness? Fairness was not at issue - fairness was what had gotten Republic City into this mess in the first place. Avatar Aang had taken Yakone's waterbending from him - why not do the same and keep the crime rate from rising even further? In the long run, Republic City would be safer, and Lin's job already was difficult enough without having to consider the safety of her daughter and granddaughter.

Slumped over her desk in her unlit office, Lin put her throbbing head into her calloused hands. She fought to keep the nightmarish memories at bay, but again and again they proved too strong.

_Mom - We're eloping. Don't bother._

Strangely Lin had saved the note - a scribbled piece of torn and creased paper capable of ending a mother each time she noticed it folded into the corner of her bottom drawer. A reminder of a scar still raw and searing.

Sun had not even signed it.

_Don't bother_. Those two words were so hurtful, so hateful, and so loaded. Don't bother coming after me. Don't bother begging me to come back. Don't bother crying over me. Don't bother doing me any favors. Don't bother loving me because I sure as hell don't love you.

As if doing any of these things would be even remotely possible for Lin Beifong.

Lin was the last person to leave Headquarters that night, stepping out into the cold night air as she tied her coat around her armor. Before Sun had come back - before the city had fallen to pieces - everything had blurred together. The seasons were indistinct. Nothing marked the passing of time, and Lin felt nothing as she moved forward in endless monotony. Completely numb - there was no soft center beneath her impenetrable exoskeleton of armor.

But then love came walking back into her kitchen. A new life - a second chance.

It was then that feeling returned.

Lin paused at the foot of the steps before turning to meet the stony gaze of her mother's statue above the building's entrance. Fists authoritatively rooted to her hips - Toph Beifong bore an omniscient smirk - the same with which Lin had grown up. Toph knew everything; you couldn't hide from her and you couldn't lie to her. Normally slouched, Toph stood straight for once, proudly and domineeringly over her domain - over her second child. Though rocky and stubborn, she always had the answer. Toph always knew what to do. Pragmatic. Realistic. _What would you do, Mom?_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: finally. I know, right? I've kept you readers waiting too long, and for that I apologize. Work has been tough lately. It grows harder and harder to wake up at 6 AM during the summer. Boo hoo for me, I know (sarcasm intended)._

_Anyway, this chapter is, like I promised, getting into exploring Sun's relationship with Tenzin. This is one of my favorite relationships in the story so far because it's such a strange and difficult relationship. He's like her father, but he isn't. He's a mentor and someone to talk to, but she pushes him away. _

_Next chapter, hopefully, will be up this weekend. Can't promise that, though. _

_Thanks again for all your WONDERFUL comments! I'm so happy my readers love the story and are willing to communicate with me! You're all so fantastic. _

_Enjoy._

* * *

A wayward snowflake - light, graceful, spontaneous - twirling around the kitchen - Lira never before had been so overjoyed - enraptured. A pretty new coat hugged her tiny child's body, bringing tremendous pleasure, as Lira never had worn or owned something so soft, so beautiful, and so luxurious. If not for her mother's instructions to hang it up in the coat closet when she was through wearing it, Lira would have worn her new love to bed.

In truth, it was an outdated style from the previous winter. The blue wool still bore creases from being stuffed between other coats on a sales rack. Yet Lira had not a care in the world. Outdated or not, she was unaware, and she danced and skipped in circles as Sun busied herself washing the vegetables she had purchased earlier at the market.

Lira hugged the warm white fur trim collar and petted the coat's furry sleeves the whole way home, thanking her mother over and over and telling Sun how much she "adored" her new coat. Precocious, but utterly sweet, and so grateful it would have brought tears to a more emotional mother. Sun was amused, though, and deeply grateful herself. How she had gotten so lucky, she would never know. Praise be for Lira's not having inherited her mother's bullheadedness and antagonism.

Sun told Lira shoes were for outside. _Inside, we put our shoes away._ Lira, therefore, danced around the kitchen in white stockinged feet. Out of practice, Sun preferred to feel the rest of the house and its occupants. Their familiar vibrations indicating placement and movement brought her comfort.

After finishing preparing a late lunch, the dainty black patent leather shoes now belonging to Lira were Sun's next task. With some elbow grease they would shine through the scuffs and scratches. They would be as good as new despite Sun's having haggled for them at the thrift stall at the market.

Sun would not remember having seen so many yuans in one place. Fifty bills worth one yuan each. Such sums had been absent from Sun's life since before Lira was born. She had become a scrimper - a saver - a willing belt-tightener. The money would be exclusively for Lira and then groceries - in that order. A new jumper, a white collared shirt with buttons down the front, pristine white stockings, and undergarments were items bought with discretion but Sun was not stingy in providing for her daughter.

Everything was more expensive in Republic City, though - and far flashier than anywhere else Sun had been. What was new was in, even if ephemerally. Unfortunately what was in style could be garish - eyesores populated the crowded streets like vermin in a run-down, low-cost apartment building that stank of rotting garbage. Some clothes, however, were absolutely beautiful. The colors, the cuts, the lengths, the embellishments. The style. Once Sun had been oblivious to cost. Once she had loved those things. She hid her once naïve and spoiled love of fineries in the recesses of her mind. Among these flashes from the past were exotic panda lilies from the volcanoes hundreds of miles south; round milky pearls the size of grapes; ludicrously expensive candies wrapped in pretty pink paper; gorgeous dresses made of the finest and often the sheerest imported fabrics available; dazzling silver bangles, which rung like tiny bells as they clanged together on her delicate wrists; and an exquisite diamond resting atop a band encrusted with sapphires.

These gifts were beautiful. Her husband had called them mere trinkets, his delighted and hungry smirk always suggesting there were more to come. Never simple, never mundane. They brought with them beauty, power, and possession.

But never love. Never security.

Sun greedily lapped up these intoxicating tastes of affection, cream compared to the skimmed rubbish to which she compared that which she lacked at home. Heedless of the hidden price tags - they could not dissuade her from the choices she made. Lustful materialism.

Later, with bags on her back and a daughter resting in her strong arms, Sun would learn to put her own desires on hold. Lira came first.

Ba Sing Se had been their home for three years - the longest they had remained in one place. When mother and daughter had left to move west through the Earth Kingdom toward Republic City, they brought only the things that could carry on their backs and in their arms without great hassle. Considering Lira's small stature, Sun had shouldered most of the weight, which entailed packing less for herself.

Sun had appeared on her mother's doorstep the evening before in the same clothes she had accumulated six years before when she first left Republic City. Tall brown leather boots - worn and scuffed, their tops just kissing the end of her kneecaps - purchased with a silver chain bracelet Sun had stuffed into the sole of her left shoe. The ring on her fourth finger - the silly, gaudy diamond symbolizing her decimated marriage - garnered her a pair of warmer and more practical trousers; a simple blouse the color of a pistachio nut with sleeves reaching to her elbows; and a sinfully ugly, overbearingly large and heavy man's coat, which promised to keep her from freezing in the cold. Later, her shirt would remain stretched even after her once pregnant belly returned to normal - or what normal would now be. Mud and dirt stained each leg of her trousers, though she paid them little notice. The overcoat felt safe, though it looked disastrous - the sleeves continued to fall over her elbows and drape her arms in tattered fabric. If not for her thinned figure, hollowed cheekbones, dirty and calloused hands, and the coldness of her rigid expression, Sun would have looked like a comically overgrown street rat.

Arriving home, Sun had yet to face the 'horrors' of her own closet, long pushed from memory. The dresses, skirts, skirts, blouses, shoes, hats, and handbags of all styles, colors, and kinds belonged to a world in which she no longer felt at home. She had taken as little as possible with her when she had left her mother - another painful memory Sun, moving from washing to drying to slicing mushrooms and winter squashes, did not wish to dredge up. Put it off - no time for that. Yet Sun could not decide if she was being stalwart or cowardly in pushing these things off.

"Lira, could you go into the closet over there - " Sun nodded her head in the direction of the shuttered pantry doors a foot to the left of the stove - "and get some rice, please?"

As the child, drawn from her daydreams and dancing, scampered off to do her mother's bidding, light but familiar vibrations indicating footsteps nearing the front door drew Sun from her own personal peace. The soft knocking on the door moments later confirmed the information her bare feet provided. She knew all too well who waited on the other side.

* * *

Praise be to her blind grandmother's earthbending teachings. Before lifting and punching rocks, Sun, like her mother before her, had been told to don a thick black blindfold. The first time the cloth enveloped her shut eyes - when the sunlight shining through her shut eyelids disappeared behind the dark fabric - Sun could not believe her grandmother saw nothing but that same blackness with her clouded green eyes.

"Listen to the earth," Toph told Sun, crouching down and tugging on Sun's right hand to tell her to do the same. Sun did as asked, unsteadily and hands first. Her fingers found the rough, dusty dirt of the small common courtyard reachable by way of the backdoor. Sun did not quite understand, though, as she planted her palm on the ground. Was the earth supposed to speak to her?

Perhaps sensing her granddaughter's confusion, Toph smiled. "Remember who the original earthbenders were?"

That was easy. "Badgermoles!"

"Right. And how do they earthbend?"

Sun responded quickly and exuberantly - she had an excellent memory and was keen on all the stories her grandmother told about her many adventures. "They're blind and they use their feet."

"To see," Toph noted with approval. "They're like me. Can't see a thing in front of their own noses with their eyes. But their eyes aren't important. They don't miss sight because they've never had it. They taught themselves to 'see' another way."

Sun tried to sneakily push up a flap of the blindfold above one eye.

"No peeking." The blindfold fell back into place. Grandmother Toph knew everything.

"Grandma, you really can see with your feet?"

"'Course," Toph answered proudly. "Put your hand back on the ground. Now pick up your foot and slam it hard against the ground."

Heedless of being hurt, Sun did so.

"Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"The vibrations."

"Vibrations?"

"They're like tremors in the ground. It's going to take time and practice - lots of it - but eventually doing that will tell your feet whatever is happening around you."

With a determined frown, Sun tried again - picking her leg up and flexing her bare foot before bringing it down to meet the earth with a muffled thud. When she concentrated, she did notice something - it was faint, the ghost of a feeling, but she was certain it was real. "I felt them! I felt them!"

"Knew you would, kid."

* * *

Toph's youngest pupil had been an extraordinary student - learning quickly and zestfully attacking each new lesson. At ten, after three years of training, Sun finally mastered the technique. At last, the youngest Beifong could 'see' with her feet. Then, the rest of her training began.

Now Sun was an adult faced with a choice: either to pretend as if she and Lira were not home, or to put on a game face and answer the door.

_Toughen up, Sun_, she silently chastised herself as she stepped toward the closed door. _Stop being a wuss_. Yet even Sun's jeering of herself could not distract her from the truth: she was plain scared. Scared out of her mind.

Sun was so sick of being scared.

_Open the damn door_. And finally she did.

Her feet had not lied. The absurdly tall man opposite her wore flowing robes of brilliant red and bright sunshine yellow, cinched with a twice-knotted fabric belt of saffron. Stately and proud, his bearded jaw starkly contrasted his shaven head upon which were splendidly strange blue arrow tattoos symbolizing his wisdom and mastery. Yes, he was exactly whom Sun had been expecting.

"Hi, Tenzin."

* * *

Long before watching Lin leave to board a ferry to return to the mainland, Tenzin had made up his mind. He would go to see Sun himself, and soon. The sooner, the better. He still could not tear himself away from conjuring over and over the bleakness in Lin's voice and the hopelessness she had conveyed to him, as if her spirit had flown from her in haste. The fear she had shared with him had been all too real. Tenzin knew both Lin and Sun to be tough, strong, and incredible, but even they needed help. They were only human, and, more often than not, they often needed saving from themselves and from each other.

In the past Tenzin had been a staunch but unofficial mediator between mother and daughter. Visible to any eye was how alike Sun and Lin were. Like two like sides of a magnet, they refused to get along - to even be in the same room at times. One stood as a repelling force against the other. Their shared emotional unavailability did not help, and further baffled and infuriated Tenzin. If he had hair on his head, he would have torn it all out by the time Sun had turned fourteen. Abrasive, obstinate, and hotly opinionated, each woman tried Tenzin's bountiful patience with ardor. Reconciliation and understanding seemed impossible.

Whenever Tenzin tried to reason with Lin on Sun's behalf, Lin would explode in a tirade of insults culminating in a furious and threatening earthbending spectacle. Similarly, Sun would be livid for Tenzin's meddling. These women, he huffed to Pema one afternoon after a particularly nasty argument, are exasperating! His first daughter Jinora, only two at the time, had sat quietly on the counter near her mother, carefully peeling steamed soy bean pods open with her dainty and surprisingly nimble fingers, and dutifully stripping them of their edible contents. "You must promise me you and your mother will never put me through this," her father demanded sourly. Jinora, too young to understand, merely blinked at her father.

While whipping through the air on his glider, the choppy, white capped waters of Yue Bay during the final cold months of winter seemed more like the ridged spine of some creature from legend. A perfectly set scene: bleak to match the impinging lugubriousness. Worry clouded Tenzin's attention, and he found it hard to concentrate. Speaking from the heart was all well and fine, but Tenzin, true to form, preferred being prepared. After all, Lin and Sun both were fiercely independent women capable of testing every ounce of wisdom, patience, and love he possessed, along with the serious composure he fought to maintain. Each day with them provided a trial, but as painful as each ordeal could be Tenzin would not give them up for the world. To stand by and watch them grow further apart was inconceivable.

_Sun, now I know you and mother have had your differences in the past, but... _No, no, that was all wrong. Tenzin could not lecture Sun; she would not give him the time of day if he strayed into territory she disliked. In his mind he considered different wordings, different sentences entirely, but everything seemed so wrong - so out of place - and Tenzin felt a knot growing in his stomach as he drew closer to Lin's home.

Indeed, he was nervous. Correction: Tenzin was both nervous and nauseous. He could taste the bile rising in the back of his throat, despite repeating silently how there was nothing to fear. A lie, of course. There was everything to fear: digging up the past like a fisherman passing a rake over the stinking, rotting, empty shells of clams already devoured by gulls; spoiling another chance to resonate with Sun - to make her see he only wanted what was best for her without sounding too much like a disappointed father, despite how much he felt that way; losing a friend and quasi-daughter - having the door slammed shut in his face. Failing. Losing. Stumbling. Finding there was no chance of full recovery. Or even recovery at all.

At last Tenzin firmly planted his boots on the top step. The door of the Beifong residence stood only a nose length away. The knot in his guts had transformed into a clawed creature threatening to climb its way out if he did not abandon his mission and return to Air Temple Island. Perhaps he also was hungry - Tenzin had not eaten anything that day despite his wife's gentle prodding. Sweet Pema - trying so hard to reassure him he was not at fault if his best efforts did not succeed. If he were faultless, why did Tenzin feel as if failure already had won?

Love could be awful, he decided. Beautiful, terrible, full of joy and awe, but also just plain awful. Any kind of love. Any minute, any day, any hour, any month, week, year, decade, century. Love remains a strange and elusive entity: just when you think you have it to hold forever, it manages to slip through your fingers like grains of sand through a sieve. Love silences; love roars like a thousand waves crashing against the shore at once. Love makes you want to throw away caution and swan dive off cliffs; love makes you a despicable coward. Love makes you want to flip through rings of fire; love makes you grossly selfish. Love makes you bellow agonized, inhuman curses at the heavens; love opens your eyes to the beauty surrounding you. Love is absurd; love is magnificent.

Love does not and cannot make sense.

He rapped the cracked knuckles of his aging fingers against the wood of the door. And he waited.

* * *

The Earthbender and the airbender both positioned in the kitchen, though awkwardly so, found maintaining eye contact grueling. Every bone in Sun's body had screamed at her not to answer the door. When she had, they yelled for her to turn Tenzin away. Impossible. Even at their most argumentative, Sun always had known Tenzin was her last standing pillar - fixed permanently - immovable despite the earthquakes Sun's demonically volatile temper unleashed. Items thrown - terrible words said - nothing would deter him.

So Sun had invited him in for tea, though her sudden and curt pronouncement of "tea" before darting to fill the kettle with water was less of an invitation than a method of relieving the tension.

Several feet lower to the ground, Lira blinked at the stranger before her. Her chin was tilted shyly, and her blue eyes roamed the floor while secreting glimpses of the man in the robes. She did not know what to make of him - so tall with his strange blue arrow tattoos. Tenzin felt the same about Lira, Sun's tiny daughter he had expected but still could not believe.

As the water ran into the open top of the black cast iron kettle, Tenzin gave Lira a small, reassuring smile. He was a giant by Lira's standards. "Hello," he greeted her softly. "I'm Tenzin. I'm an old friend of your mother's."

At his words Lira seemed to shrink back like an exotic nocturnal flower hiding from the first stretching rays of dawn. "Hello," she responded, quiet as a lizard-mouse. Out of the corner of his eye Tenzin could see Sun carefully watching her daughter, nodding to coax her out of her reticent silence. So engrossed was Sun in Lira that the kettle overflowed, pouring out into the sink. Sun cursed under her breath at her mistake.

"What's your name?"

Still timidly faltering, the little raven-haired girl softly told him. "You have a lovely name, Lira," Tenzin added kindly, noticing Lira redden.

"Sweetheart," Sun called from the stove, placing the pot on the kindled flame to boil, "why don't you look for that doll I told you about." Instinctively, Tenzin sensed Sun was asking Lira for some time to speak with Tenzin uninhibited, and he appreciated her discretion.

"Oh, Rei!" The name of the doll, Tenzin assumed. Lira swiveled out of the room and disappeared down the dark corridor to where Tenzin remembered Sun's childhood room being. When she was gone, he returned his attentions to Sun. "She's nothing like you." As the words left his mouth Tenzin cringed. "I only meant -"

Sun flicked the fingers of a hand in the air in a gesture of understanding before crossing the room to the table and chairs.

Tenzin followed her and took the seat nearest Sun, pivoting his chair an angle over to see her properly. They heard only the faint bubbling of water beginning to simmer in the black kettle on the stove. Otherwise, the two remained like two rocks having a conversation - eternally captured in an odd silence. _Déjà-vu_ - a situation not unlike Sun's brief talk with her mother the night before - the one in which Sun had played the prodigal daughter gone wrong. No heart-warming reunion, no tears, no apologies, no promises, no words of love.

Some things would never change in the Beifong household.

The lull, however, only increased Tenzin's intense urge to say something - anything. "It's good to see you," he offered, finally and sincerely - the lines around his eyes softened and the corners of his mouth turned upward.

Sun snorted, skeptical as always. "Really?" Her green eyes, so elegant but capable of great damage, pierced him as if Tenzin were an enemy come to rifle through the passions Sun stored under the floorboards of her inner self.

Taken aback, Tenzin knew he should not be so surprised. Sun was pressing him for the truth. 'Really' actually meant: "are you _really_ glad to see me?" or "are you _really_ sure you want to start off this way?" Sun and Lin both had such a way, not with words considering how they quickly would opt to return to primitive monosyllabic conversations if given the choice. This 'way' was more of a word to name the feeling of utter powerlessness they could instill in someone, whether friend or opponent, almost instantly. They disarmed you, but you did not feel free - you felt naked and exposed.

Tenzin decided he was going to go with "are you _really_ glad to see me?" rather than take back the words he had almost vomited out of nervousness. "Really. I am."

The kettle whistled, its spout puffing steam like a less malevolent version of an industrial factory's smoke stacks. The kettle's voice sharply rose to a vibrating screech - clear and clamorous. Sun pushed herself from the table to take care of the water, now at a rolling boil, and to fetch two simple porcelain teacups from the cabinet above the sink.

"How did you know I was here?" The deep color of her voice, feminine yet intensely commanding like a vibrant shot of rouge on a dark painting, pushed its way through the noise.

She knew the answer, Tenzin was sure. "Your mother," he answered her straightly.

Sun dipped her head before scooping up the whole lot - teacups and kettle - and returning to her seat. "Thank you," Tenzin said as she handed him one of the little white cups, so light he was afraid to hold it too tightly lest it shatter into a million pieces.

"So you thought you'd pay me - us - a visit," Sun stated flatly, pouring golden tea into both cups and then glancing into her own to watch the spinning flecks of brown tea leaves find rest on the porcelain floor.

"I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Perhaps Tenzin was reading Sun wrong, but he could have sworn he detected the faint glimmer of appreciation in her expression. Aloof and stony, Tenzin knew most of how people saw Sun was an act. She appeared to be solid as a rock - unbreakable and unbendable - entirely devoid of feeling and expression. This way, she was nearly unreadable, and was consequently less likely to be hurt.

Tenzin could not be fooled into believing that nonsense. He came clean:

"Sun, your..." He cleared his throat, more out of practice than necessity. "Your mother came to me this morning because she is... rather distressed, and understandably so."

Tenzin watched as Sun's irises rose slightly, half disappearing under her eyelids. Lin was upset. Of course. Sun knew as much, but Tenzin felt impressing the fact could not hurt.

"I'm not here to lecture you," he continued, "I'm merely here to say... well..." A deep sigh escaped the airbender as his thick, scraggly brows knit together. "We missed you."

_I missed you. So much._

Sun's gaze flickered up, and Tenzin believed the cold, rocky young woman before him was succumbing to her ultimately porous human nature. "Same," she admitted, obviously struggling as her shoulders slumped forward and that elusive glimpse into her psychic center fled as quickly as it had come.

Tenzin nodded as if to communicate, "I know," and stood to leave. Lin clearly was overwhelmed, and Tenzin had accurately predicted Sun would be in a similar state. "I'll go." _You need some time to yourself._ Tenzin himself was feeling rather in over his head. "Thank you for the tea."

"Thanks for the company." No sarcasm; this time, he knew Sun meant what she said.

Farewells said, Tenzin remembered something Pema had said before he had left the house. Surely Sun would balk at the idea, but it was worth a try:

The trick was to place emphasis on the idea belonging to his wife to avoid potential injury.

"I almost forgot. Pema wanted me to ask if you... would like to come to dinner tomorrow - the three of you." In the middle of asking, Tenzin had regretted ever having remembered Pema's request. The horror inherent on Sun's face was plain to see.

If he did not at least try to persuade Sun to come visit Air Temple Island Tenzin was sure Pema would not speak to him for the rest of the week. The airbender's wife was a talented cook, and she grew ebullient when guests gushed with praise over her meals.

"It would be small," Tenzin assured Sun with more than a note of pleading. "You three, my family... and I can introduce you to Korra finally... and..." He was struggling - painfully so.

And Sun was beaming with wry amusement.

"Bumi is staying with us..."

Sun stopped him, her lips tightening into a smirk. "If Bumi's there, I'm in."

Tenzin wanted to breathe an enormous sigh of relief, but checked himself. "Thank you." Thank you, indeed. The old Sun would have bartered - only agreeing to attend if there was something to gain. It dawned on Tenzin: Sun had grown up.

A silver lining if there ever were one.

* * *

Closing the door behind Tenzin, Sun noted with a frown the absurdity of her current situation. Now she really did need something to wear.


End file.
